


Blinded By Mercy

by Picky_PUNguin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blind Lance (Voltron), Dystopia/Utopia, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Laith, Light Angst, M/M, Mentioned Coran (Voltron), Minor Violence, No Sex, No Smut, Pining, Spooning, it's only ever referenced, klance, literally the most pure and wholesome thing you've ever read, lots of fluff, low-key italics abuse, seriously so much fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-24 15:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16642472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Picky_PUNguin/pseuds/Picky_PUNguin
Summary: After being kidnapped and blinded, Lance McClain finds himself wandering in a world shrouded in darkness. When he chooses forgiveness over vengeance, he finds light in the most unexpected of places.





	Blinded By Mercy

Slowly, painfully, the convicted criminals were forced onto the stage. The clangour of the chains around their wrists and ankles sent a shiver down Lance’s spine, and he gripped his roommate’s hand even tighter. Hunk wasted no time reciprocating with a comforting squeeze, fully aware of how much Lance had hated the event even  _ before _ being roped into participating. 

Once every four months, anyone found guilty of a major crime would have their punishment chosen by the victim—or, in the case of death, the victim’s family—and as a recent victim, Lance McClain had no choice but to assign his offender a fitting punishment. Killing criminals directly was considered “inhumane” had been outlawed years ago, but every other fathomable fate was fair play, and in Lance’s opinion, that was infinitely worse. In fact, some punishments were so brutal that they resulted in death regardless, and the mere thought made Lance sick to his stomach. Watching each criminal’s face contort with fear upon receiving their sentence was always excruciating to view, and Lance silently thanked the Lord that he didn’t have to. Not this time, anyway. 

He waited impatiently as the line slowly inched forward, each individual taking another step after a decision was made by the head of the line. He knew exactly when to proceed by listening to the footsteps of the person in front of him, but Hunk still insisted on helping ease him forward every time, and while Lance’s pride would never allow him to admit it, he was secretly thankful to have his best friend by his side. Step by step, the number of people ahead of Lance began to dwindle, and he found himself nervously fidgeting with a small blue keychain of a lion, trying desperately to distract himself from the morbid punishments being dished out:

A proposal to let sharks rip a man to pieces, a demand to have a man chained up and set on fire, and a request to have another’s fingers forcefully removed. It was sickening—almost like they were trying to outdo each other. 

There was no denying that several of the convicts on stage had committed unforgivable and irreversible crimes, but be that as it may, Lance still firmly believed that  _ nobody _ deserved such sadistic treatment. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, he himself would soon be responsible for determining a criminal’s sentence, and just the thought sent him spiraling into a panic. He’d had entire  _ weeks _ to dream up a fitting punishment for the boy who had wronged him, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to utter any of the wicked ideas that had crossed his mind, and by the time he’d reached the front of the line, Lance still hadn’t decided on his offender’s sentence. Maybe he could still slip away, postpone the inevitable, avoid his responsibility to-

_ No, it was too late to back out now.  _

Hunk gently urged him forward, and though Lance had been doing quite well on his own, his feet suddenly became entangled and he stumbled ahead, narrowly avoiding a collision with the stage. Thankfully, Hunk’s lightning-fast reflexes enabled him to dart forward and catch the poor boy before he collapsed, and he promptly assisted Lance in finding his footing once more. The attentive crowd “aww”ed as if watching a ditzy little puppy, and while Lance knew it was meant to be supportive, it was still immensely demeaning. Even  _ more _ demeaning, however, was the mocking laughter that sounded from the elevated position in front of him: the stage.

Lance took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and finally tilted his head up to meet the evocative gaze of the boy who glared down at him from above. He hadn’t faced his tormentor since the day he’d been kidnapped, but he was confident that the boy standing before him was no different than he remembered—still unfairly equipped with those striking dark violet eyes and that long, messy, black hair that perfectly framed his handsome face. He imagined the boy sporting an annoyed pout, and felt the corners of his lips curl upwards at the prospect. 

“So,” Lance finally breathed, voice filled with a strange curiosity. “What’s your name?”

The raven-haired boy sneered. “What’s it to you? I’ll be taken care of long before you need to concern yourself with my name.”

“Ah, I’m such an idiot,” Lance laughed, entirely unfazed by the boy’s rude remarks. “How can I expect  _ you  _ to introduce yourself if  _ I _ haven’t done the same? I’m Lance. It’s nice to meet you.”

A disconcerted murmur traveled through the audience, and Lance swore he heard an outraged, “He didn’t even  _ know _ his victim?” before the crowd simmered down enough for his attention to return to the moody criminal. Ignoring the last few snippets of chatter, Lance smiled up at him patiently, suppressing the urge to cheer when he heard a resigned sigh come from the teenager before him.

“Keith,” the boy finally muttered curtly, not mincing words. 

Lance opened his mouth to reply, but the Overseer, the man in charge of the proceedings, had grown impatient and hastily cut in before he had the chance. A man of procedure, he did not take kindly to Lance casually conversing with one of the convicts and hurried to correct his unconventional behavior. 

“Lance McClain,” he addressed sternly, trying to maintain professionalism. “Please swiftly deliver your verdict. What will the offender’s sentence be?”

“About that…” Lance rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, flashing the crowd an embarrassed grin. “I, uh, haven’t settled on a punishment yet.”

Immediately, the crowd roared to life with suggestions. 

“Have him mauled by bears!”

“String him up with a meat hook!”

“Let’s see how that long hair of his fares against a wood chipper!”

“Man, that’s  _ harsh _ ,” Lance winced, sharply sucking in a breath. “I’m not a fan of his mullet either, but that’s just-  _ ouch _ .”

“Oh, here’s an idea! Let’s amputate his arm!” Whoever had spoken was using a spiteful tone, one dripping with sarcasm. “Ah, but don’t make it a clean cut—let’s hack it off with an axe!”

With this new proposal, the crowd fell into a series of hushed murmurs. As the muted discussions ensued, a few gasps of recognition arose as well, but as usual, poor Lance was left in the dark, forced to piece together the scenario himself. It took him longer than most to place the chilling voice, but after a moment’s reflection he recognized it as Keith’s, and suddenly he understood the audience’s unease. They were all left with the same question: why would a  _ criminal _ assist in brainstorming a fate so cruel? If Lance chose to listen to the idea, Keith would only be causing himself more pain. 

Was he trying to punish himself? No, his tone hadn’t been one of regret—it had been resentful,  _ desensitized _ . It may have been his first time facing charges on stage, but it clearly wasn’t the first time he’d been affected by the event, the incident leaving a scar on his humanity. In fact, Lance was willing to bet that the indifference Keith displayed was a facade, and that underneath his uninterested front he was a mess of emotion. The more he thought about it, the more the situation bothered him, and suddenly he knew exactly what Keith’s punishment would be. 

“Believe it or not, you’ve actually given me an idea, Keith!” Lance beamed. “It’s not even close to the torture you proposed, but hey, you got me thinking-”

“—a rarity, I bet—”

Lance ignored the scornful remark in favor of completing his sentence. “-and this is the result.” He took a deep breath before continuing, pausing for dramatic effect, and then spoke slowly and with purpose. “Keith, I sentence you to life as my live-in assistant.”

Keith’s face contorted in a mixture of rage, disbelief, and indignation. “No!”

“Yep!” Lance countered cheekily. “You and I are gonna be roomies!”

“ _ Slavery _ ?!” Keith seethed. “Your brilliant punishment is  _ slavery _ ?!”

“That sounds so primitive,” Lance frowned. “I’m going to call it  _ servitude _ .”

“Th-This is–!” With a start, Keith realized he was so revolted by the idea that he could barely get the words out. “This is ridiculous!”

As far as Lance could tell, none of the comments from the crowd had elicited a reaction from the boy, and he took pride in the fact that Keith sounded mortified only after hearing  _ his _ idea. Still, while he was a little impressed that he’d been able to conceive such a fitting punishment, he honestly hadn’t meant to infuriate the moody convict, and he immediately began trying to justify his decision to the boy.

“I mean, adjusting to life as a blind man is going to be quite a challenge,” he reasoned. “It’s only fair that you help me learn how to cope with the problem  _ you _ caused.”

_ Blind _ .

It hadn’t quite felt real until he’d uttered that word. Everybody else had already used it—the doctors, when Lance had been rushed to the hospital; Hunk, when he’d called Lance’s family to deliver the devastating news; Veronica, when she’d visited to see how he was adjusting to his new life—but this was the first time Lance had used the word himself. It felt almost surreal, as if it wasn’t so, yet Lance knew that this was his reality now.

_ A world shrouded in darkness. _

“You’re insane!” Keith hissed. “I’m not going to be your slave!”

“Live-in assistant.” Lance jumped to correct him. “C’mon, Keith, you’ve got to know the name of your own job.”

“Don’t patronize me, Blind Boy!” Keith shouted. “I refuse to-!”

“But refusing the punishment means you’ll be killed!” Lance cried, and perhaps it was his imagination, but Keith thought he detected worry in the boy’s voice. “Please? I won’t be too hard on you. I promise.”

Keith wanted so badly to refuse, to face death rather than embarrassment, but as he locked eyes with the boy making the plea, guilt overwhelmed him. Lance may not have been able to see, but his misty ocean-blue eyes still danced with a vision of hope. He  _ wanted _ Keith to live, and Keith couldn’t fathom why. Subjugated by curiosity, Keith found himself agreeing, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it.

“ _ Fine, _ ” he hissed icicly. 

“Really?” Lance perked up, his distress dissolving as though it had never been there in the first place. “Oh, I’m so glad you agreed!”

Keith felt excitement building up in his chest and scowled, crossing his arms in an attempt to quell it, the cold metal handcuffs around his wrists clanking as he altered his position. Was he really so intrigued by Lance’s actions that he was eager to be a slave? No, Keith refused to accept that. He would crush the excitement before it had the chance to flourish, and he’d be careful to never again make the same mistake. 

The Overseer cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the two boys and the audience. “The criminal’s sentence has been delivered. Lance McClain, you may collect him after the proceedings.”

Lance fidgeted around nervously. Had he been able to see, he would have been doing his best to avoid eye contact, likely by staring down at his feet. He knew he’d already caused more than enough of a disruption—he’d showed up unprepared, started chatting with a convict, and handed down one of the most forgiving sentences in history—but as awful as he felt about the little upset he’d been responsible for, he knew he needed to be found guilty of misconduct one more time. He could  _ not _ sit through the entire torturous process; it was too much to bear. 

“Oh, actually, I’d like to take him home now, please,” Lance piped up again, seizing the Overseer’s attention before the man could dismiss him and carry on. 

The Overseer stared down at Lance, baffled by the request. In all his years in the position, he’d never seen a victim as troublesome as the one standing before him now. Still, he could find no reason not to grant Lance’s request and eventually gave a slow nod. 

“You and Keith are excused.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Are you in need of an escort?”

“I’ll manage,” Lance assured him, smiling confidently. “After all, I’ve got a new assistant to watch out for me!”

The Overseer frowned, unamused. “With all due respect, Mr. McClain, your ‘new assistant’ is the reason I offered.”

“Oh.”

Keith groaned and ran a cuffed hand through his messy black hair. He’d initially thought to sneer at Lance’s idiocy, but a quick reality check reminded him that he was now tasked with working for the brainless blind boy. If he was going to have to put up with this much stupidity on a daily basis, Keith didn’t think he was going to make it. Maybe Lance  _ was _ trying to kill him after all. 

Glancing over at his new ‘roomie’ as Lance had so eloquently put it, Keith noticed that the Overseer’s comment had actually left him stunned. However, Lance quickly bounced back, flashing the man an appallingly informal grin. 

“It’s okay! I trust that Keith’ll get me home safe and sound. I guess you could say I have  _ blind _ faith in him.”

Oh, God. Keith was actually going to die, wasn’t he?

The Overseer ignored Lance’s poor attempt at humor and sighed, exasperated. It was beyond evident that, at this point, all the man wanted was for the moody convict and the vexing blind boy to leave. Luckily Keith, who was itching to get out of the chains around his wrists and ankles, was more than happy to oblige him.

As Lance drew the attention of the masses with another nonsensical comment, an unwitting accomplice, Keith propelled his plan into motion. Using his peripheral vision to sneak a glance at the man tasked with keeping an eye on him, Keith spotted the keys to his cuffs dangling loosely from the man’s belt and rocketed into action. Whirling around while the careless guard’s attention was still trained on Lance, he caught his target completely off-guard and brought both of his fists sharply upwards as though bumping a volleyball, landing a fierce blow to the man’s chin. Needless to say, the poor man collapsed atop the stage, out like a light.

Dropping to his knees beside the unconscious guard, Keith slipped the key off the key ring and scrambled to insert it into the little keyholes adorning the hand and ankle cuffs. Nearly everyone present was frozen in shock, and by the time the Overseer had recovered enough to shout about how it was imperative that Keith be stopped, the boy had completely slipped free of his cold metal shackles. He sported a snarky grin as he shook out his wrists, relishing the feeling of freedom, and then, before anybody had a chance to stop him, he was gone—already sprinting towards the stupefied crowd. Reaching the edge of the stage in record time, Keith launched himself into the air and over the heads of several dazed audience members, landing in a roll in one of the few disorganized aisles created by gaps in the large crowd of onlookers. 

Back on his feet in an instant, he locked his sights on the line of victims and took off towards the front of it, using his agile build to his advantage to effortlessly weave throughout the muddled audience. He’d leaped off the left side of the stage, but before long he was front and center once more, skidding to a halt right next to the one and only Lance McClain. Lance let out a breath of surprise as he heard Keith slide into place mere inches away from him, but Keith remained indifferent about his new position, turning his back to the boy and growling out an aggravated request.

“Would you shut up already?” Keith grumbled, addressing the buzzing congregation with disdain. “I’m not going anywhere, you brain-dead swines. I only wanted out of those stupid shackles.”

Unfortunately, Keith’s words did nothing to calm the disquieted audience, and poor Hunk nearly had a panic attack when he noticed Keith had stopped beside him. He feared that Keith might once again take Lance hostage, but thankfully Keith made no move to harm either of the boys; he simply scowled and crossed his arms, scanning the crowd with tired eyes. Lance, on the other hand, was completely star-struck—a stark contrast to both of his companions. He had always been easily excitable, but this time it was different. He was standing mere inches from a criminal, and it was exhilarating. Keith was dangerous, and that, to Lance, was magnetizing.

Eager for details, Lance bumped his shoulder into Hunk’s and whispered, “What happened? How’d Keith get here?”

At least, he’d  _ thought _ it was Hunk’s shoulder. He realized his mistake only when Keith bristled at the contact and tore away as though he’d been burned.

“ _ Don’t touch me! _ ”

“Sorry!” Out of habit, Lance found himself apologizing. He hadn’t even been blind for a month and already he’d bumped into people so frequently that the response was now automatic. “I’m really sorry!” he repeated. “I meant to nudge Hunk.”

Keith wanted so badly to spit out an insult, but Lance’s genuinely apologetic tone had rendered him speechless. Lance had to be faking it, right? How else could a victim be so infuriatingly forgiving? Keith had a hard time believing that there was no ulterior motive, but ploy or no, Lance had chosen kindness over conflict, so Keith returned the favor and held his tongue.

Unfortunately, the audience didn’t seem to share the ‘silence speaks volumes’ mentality. To put it simply, the crowd was in an uproar.

“Don’t apologize to him!”

“ _ He’s _ the one who should be begging for forgiveness!”

“You’re better off without that miserable kidnapper!”

One bold onlooker even had the gall to throw something at him, but Keith remained unfazed, effortlessly evading the item—whatever it was—(he suspected it was a shoe) and watching as it whizzed past Lance, startling the blind mess of a bystander. Naturally, his response was a little delayed, but the second Lance’s mind registered that something had nearly hit him, he jerked away in surprise.

“Hey! What the-?”

The spiteful little stunt shouldn’t have bothered Keith, but when several additional onlookers began hurling their miscellaneous possessions in his direction, Keith was made acutely aware of the fact that he was angry. He’d grown up in an orphanage, so it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with having things thrown at him—wasn’t the first time it had been him against the world—and yet, for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the paltry assault as he’d done in the past. He spent the next several seconds trying to figure out why as he avoided and deflected the barrage of items from the roaring crowd, but it wasn’t until he knocked a stray hand-mirror away from Lance that he realized his anger stemmed from a strange sense of responsibility tugging at his heart. He could stay silent no longer.

“What’s wrong with you people?!” Keith demanded, furiously gesturing to the boy beside him. “Don’t you realize you could hit  _ him _ , too?!” 

However, much to his dismay, the volume of the congregation’s angry shouts had risen so significantly that many hadn’t heard him, and those who did had chosen to ignore his queries. In retrospect, maybe busting out of his shackles and riling up the crowd with insults hadn’t been the best idea. This was really getting out of hand.

Panicking, Hunk looked to the Overseer for help, but the poor man was equally as overwhelmed and clearly lacked any insight as to calming the tumultuous audience. He’d apparently tried issuing a few commands, but like Keith’s questions, they had gone ignored and it was now beyond evident that all attempts to restore order would be in vain. Hunk bit his lip and averted his eyes from the pitiful man, skimming over members of the audience instead. Unfortunately, his quick little scan yielded no results; he was unable to spot anybody who may have been of service to them.

_ Is nobody here capable enough to help me? _

Finally, his eyes landed on Keith. Was Keith the most reliable choice? No. Was he the most capable? After the skills he’d showcased up on stage, Hunk didn’t doubt it. If there was anyone who could escort Lance to safety, it was Keith.

“We have to get Lance away from here!” Hunk shouted over to him. “I don’t want him to get hurt!”

“You think I care if he gets hurt?” Keith fired back, throwing a punch at the poor soul who, in the chaos, had instigated a fistfight with him.

“It’s your  _ job _ !” Hunk reiterated. “You don’t have to care! You just have to prevent it from happening!”

Keith hated that Hunk was right. Begrudgingly, he nodded in agreement and grabbed Lance’s left arm as Hunk latched onto the right, and together they began hauling the helpless boy away from the unruly crowd. Their teamwork was surprisingly sound, and in no time at all the two boys had carefully guided Lance past the mayhem and onto a nearby street, the noisy jeering behind them fading as they helped Lance along the sidewalk. Well, it would be more accurate to say that  _ Hunk _ helped Lance along the sidewalk; Keith had abandoned his hold on the boy’s arm the instant that they had broken away from the assembly. 

“Leaving already?” Lance asked cheekily, his lighthearted tone overflowing with humor. 

As he spoke, it dawned on him that he’d grown accustomed to his blindness more quickly than he’d expected. He had successfully assessed the situation around him—unusual as it was—in a reasonable amount of time, and he was still cracking jokes and messing with Hunk at every given opportunity; it was almost as though nothing about him had changed. He found a strange sense of solace in that thought, and tucked it safely away in the back of his mind.

“I mean, they were  _ only _ throwing things at us,” he continued facetiously. “We didn’t have to leave so soon. I didn’t even get to say goodbye!”

_ Goodbye? _

Keith glowered at the pavement beneath his feet as he walked. He knew Lance was only kidding, but the sentence still didn’t sit right with him. Why would Lance even  _ think _ about dignifying those mindless pricks with a farewell? They had jeopardized his safety to act on his behalf, which was such an extreme act of stupidity that Keith felt his blood begin to boil.

_ If one plans not to use it, one does not deserve a brain. _

If Keith had paused for a moment to cool down he likely would’ve realized that the crowd’s poor choices were not the true reason he had gotten so worked up, but the incident had left him raging and, in his recklessness, he felt the sudden need to lash out at somebody. The mocking words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“You wanted to say goodbye?” Keith scoffed. “And what exactly did you plan on telling them? ‘See you later?’ I highly doubt  _ that _ .”

“Leave him alone!” Hunk rebuked, instantly jumping to Lance’s defense.

Keith’s dark amethyst eyes flashed with contempt and he promptly fixed the spirited boy with a chilling glare, speaking in a positively sinister tone as he uttered his challenge.

“ _ Make me. _ ”

Hunk paled, well-nigh impressed with how easily Keith had commanded such a petrifying tone. As a shiver crept up his spine, he mentally cursed Lance for taking pity on a boy who was so clearly a future serial killer. Already Keith had managed to scare him witless, and they’d not yet known each other for a whole twenty four hours! He felt a tad guilty for abandoning his earlier courage so quickly, but what had started off as the strong defense of his friend was now crumbling, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“Lance,” Hunk whined. “Lance, he scares me. Can we  _ please _ go back and get his shackles?”

At the mention of his restraints, Keith visibly bristled and Hunk wondered if it had been a mistake to inquire about the shackles. He was still greatly upset by the way Keith had treated his friend and downright terrified of the boy’s menacing stare, but despite his qualms with Keith, he honestly wasn’t looking for a fight. Hunk both loathed and feared confrontation, and on rare occasions his docile demeanor had even led people to mistakenly think him a coward. Although, Hunk chose to view his caution and pacifism as Lance’s much-needed rationale. For what the boy lacked himself, his best friend more than made up for. However, as keen as he was on peace, Hunk was first and foremost a fiercely loyal friend—a tried and true Hufflepuff—and even though he was indisputably the sweetest person ever, he didn’t appreciate people giving his friends a hard time, and under no circumstance was he going to allow Keith to get away with mocking his best friend. As soon as the young convict opened his mouth to object to the resurrection of his chains, Hunk cut in with a continuation of his own argument.

“I mean it, Keith. Don’t disrespect him,” he pleaded. “If this derisive behavior persists, and I worry that Lance is being too lax with you, I really will ask to bring back your restraints.”

“Is that so?” Keith challenged, his voice frightfully condescending. “I’d like to see you try.”

“You-!” Hunk opened his mouth to reprimand the ingrate, but the remainder of the words caught in his throat. He’d never met someone so insolent before, and quite frankly, he wasn’t sure how to handle it. All he knew for certain was that he refused to stand idly by while someone mocked and ridiculed his best bud, and he told Keith as much. “I’m not going to sit back and watch as you belittle my friend,” he finally warned, resolute and unwavering. “If I hear one more demeaning word about him, I’ll personally-!”

“Hunk!” Lance suddenly cut it, placing his hand on the Samoan’s shoulder to calm him. “Isn’t this your house?”

An innocent, near-angelic smile lit up his face, and it honestly seemed like he was unaware of the brewing conflict he had interrupted, though Hunk knew better than to write Lance off as ignorant. His interjection had been purposeful, and his message clear:  _ Don’t yell at Keith _ . 

Hunk frowned, the gears in his head whirring at exceptional speeds as he tried to make sense of Lance’s unspoken request. He knew Lance was really eager to give Keith a chance, but spontaneously lying about their whereabouts was an incredibly weak way of trying to distract him from his mini-tirade. A brief glance at the environment was all it would take to disprove Lance’s claim! Finally sparing a minute to take in his surroundings, Hunk froze. As the truth dawned on him, an embarrassed blush colored his face and he bashfully mumbled the only words that came to mind, unable to help his nervous chuckle.

“I guess we really  _ are _ at my house.”

Lance laughed with him, and Hunk knew he’d been forgiven. He still didn’t understand the logic behind his friend’s actions, but if Lance was this committed to his plan, Hunk was sure he had some crazily convoluted reason to see it through. A strange sense of pride welled up inside of him and he found himself silently admiring his friend’s determination, so in awe of Lance’s drive to move forward with his plan that the boy’s last comment went right over his head. Keith, however, wasn’t about to let the peculiar remark go unnoticed. 

“How’d you know?” he challenged. His tone was laced with distrust, as though he thought Lance a liar, but his piercing blue-grey eyes gave away his true intentions; they sparkled with an undeniable hint of curiosity. 

“Huh?” Lance blinked in surprise, turning to face the speaker in confusion.

“How’d you know, Blind Boy?” Keith repeated impatiently. “How did you know we were at this particular house?”

Lance stifled a laugh, deciding that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to tell Keith that his child-like impatience was utterly adorable. “I always trip over this part of the sidewalk,” he explained with a sheepish smile, “even when I  _ can _ see it.”

Keith dropped his gaze to the cement beneath him and noticed that there was indeed an uneven portion of sidewalk. It was heavily chipped, and Keith wanted to ask if Lance knew how it had happened, but before he could pose his inquiry, the front door of Hunk’s house flew open and the porch light flickered to life. A woman’s silhouette could be seen in the doorway, and she waved excitedly to the trio of boys.

“Honey, is that you?” she called. “Come in and eat dinner! We all pitched in to make your favorite!”

Hunk waved back, and while the gesture wasn’t nearly as wild or excited as his energetic mother’s, the brilliant smile on his face was evidence enough that he’d experienced many loving memories in that house. Gesturing for her to shut the door, he turned back to Lance, looking torn.

“I told my family I’d have dinner with them tonight, but if you need me, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind-”

“I’ll be fine,” Lance promised, and just knowing that Hunk was willing to take such drastic measures to look out for him warmed his heart. “Thanks for taking me this far, buddy.”

“But-”

“Trust me,” Lance soothed, a confident smile lighting up his face. “The only thing I’m in danger of is accidentally passing by our house.”

He hadn’t said anything directly, but it wasn’t long before their mighty BFF ESP kicked in and Hunk understood his message with perfect clarity:  _ Keith won’t hurt me _ . 

“Alright,” Hunk finally relented. “I’ll be back at our place by ten o’clock. Stay safe, Lance.”

“You live together?” Keith asked incredulously, an expression of displeasure overwriting his features, his voice a lot harsher than he’d intended. He couldn’t explain why, but the idea of Lance and Hunk being in a romantic relationship unsettled him.

“Yep!” Lance answered quickly, and Keith suspected he had done it to prevent another disagreement between his companions. “Hunk and I live together with our mutual friend, Pidge. You’ll like her! She’s the master of sarcasm and witty remarks.”

“Oh, so you live with your friends,” Keith deduced, and his distaste visibly dissolved. “I guess that’s kinda cool.”

He felt oddly relieved, and after reflecting on his outburst he realized that he’d dreaded a relationship between the two only because he didn’t want to imagine Hunk taking care of Lance—that was strictly  _ his _ job. As the surprising sentiment crossed his mind, Keith bit his lip in aggravation, utterly abhorring the sense of responsibility Shiro had instilled in him. Despite his best efforts, he’d never been able to rid himself of it. Sure, Lance was a sweet boy as far as he could tell, but they barely knew each other! Keith certainly shouldn’t feel so strongly about sticking around to guide him! And yet, the responsibility tugging at his heart was more powerful than any he’d experienced before. He  _ needed _ to be the one to take care of Lance. After all, he’d been the one who caused Lance to go blind in the first place.

“Yeah, it’s the best!” Lance agreed suddenly, dragging Keith away from his thoughts. “I can’t wait for you to meet Pidge! Oh, and it’ll be so great to finally have someone move into that depressingly empty room!” he gushed, excitement flashing in his gorgeous ocean-blue eyes. In fact, the ditzy boy was so eager to show off his home to Keith that he began continuing down the sidewalk on his own.

“Hey, wait up!” Keith called, jogging after him until he caught up to Lance. “You can’t even see where you’re going without me, Blind Boy.”

Lance replied with some cheeky remark and Keith groaned, unamused, but fell into step beside the goofy Cuban regardless. Hunk smiled, watching it all from afar as the duo proceeded down the road. Maybe, he thought, spending time with Keith wouldn’t be so bad after all. Shaking his head in amusement as he watched their silhouettes slowly disappear from view, he worked on slotting together the pieces of the mysterious puzzle Lance had posed to him. What was Lance hoping to accomplish through befriending Keith? The puzzle was nowhere near complete yet, but Hunk was certain that he’d figure it out in due time. After all, despite the boy’s antics and silly scheming, everything usually worked out for Lance in the end. If he poured enough time and effort into it, Hunk had no doubt he’d stumble upon the desired result this time, too. 

“So,” Lance began once they’d put some distance between between Hunk and themselves, “I’m curious. Why did you suggest a punishment for yourself?”

Perhaps it was a little blunt, but it seemed as good a topic as any to initiate a conversation with, and besides, Lance was dying to know what the motivation behind Keith’s words had been. He’d been polite enough to wait until it was just the two of them to discuss it, but now that Hunk had joined his family for dinner, nothing could hold his curiosity at bay! Unfortunately, even with only one listener, Keith was still unwilling to divulge the truth behind his actions. Apparently, it was a pretty touchy subject.

“None of your business,” Keith growled out through gritted teeth.

“Pleeease?” Lance begged, sticking out his lower lip in an over-exaggerated pout.

“ _ No. _ ” Keith’s answer was stern, unwavering. “I don’t want to talk about it, Blind Boy.”

“If you refuse, you’ll be killed!” Lance reminded him, and Keith hated how genuinely concerned Lance sounded; he was making it very difficult to dislike him.

“I don’t care,” Keith decided. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

Much to his bewilderment, Lance laughed softly in reply. “That’s okay. I’m blind, so we can just pretend I didn’t hear you say ‘no’ to the order.”

“That’s not how it works,” Keith grumbled, jumping to correct him. “You’d have to be  _ deaf _ not to hear.”

“Oh well,” Lance shrugged, not at all phased by his mistake. “I’m still going to pretend it didn’t happen.”

Keith froze. Had Lance not been kidding when he promised he wouldn’t be too harsh? After mulling the possibility over in his head, Keith decided that he would accept Lance’s words at face value. Lance hadn’t lied to him yet—not that he knew of, anyway—and the silly Cuban had shown him nothing but kindness since issuing the “live-in assistant” punishment. 

An unfamiliar sensation took over the disoriented criminal and he took a deep breath in preparation of what he was about to do. He owed it to Lance to utter at least  _ one _ genuine, non-sarcastic, non-dismissive phrase. In the end, it took him longer than most to settle on the perfect response, but he eventually found the words he’d been searching for.

“...Thank you.”

“No problem!” Lance replied cheerily, thrilled that he’d received a positive response. “What’re friends for?”

“Um…” Keith blanked; his brain had gone numb upon hearing that Lance considered him a friend. Thankfully, the animated boy carried on without missing a beat, giving Keith time to calm his rapidly racing mind. 

“Anyway,” Lance continued, “you don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with, but I would like to get to know you a little better. Do you mind?”

Lance held out his hand tentatively, shyly asking Keith to take it. It was a fairly foreign gesture, but it wasn’t so unfamiliar that Keith didn’t know how to react. He began reaching out to Lance, but hesitated in taking the boy’s hand and promptly pulled away, unable to bring himself to complete the simplistic action.

“Keith,” Lance breathed airily, and it sounded as though he was trying hard not to laugh.  “You’re really not going to hold my hand?” 

“H-Hold your hand?” Keith repeated, his face instinctively scrunching up in a mix of confusion and distaste. He was clearly trying to sound repulsed by the idea, but Lance sensed his underlying fear.

“Yep!” Lance beamed, hoping his confident smile was enough to put Keith at ease. “I mean, I’m not going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to practice. I’m obviously capable of walking on my own  _ here _ , but if we go somewhere crowded you’re gonna have to lead me by the hand, so...”

That made sense, Keith supposed, but it still unnerved him. He’d never held someone’s hand before.

“Um, right, yeah. I can do that,” Keith acquiesced, rising to the challenge despite himself.

Dragging Lance away from a frenzied mob was one thing, but holding hands? He was fairly certain that despite the simplicity of the action he’d somehow find a way to screw it up. Even so, he was  _ not _ going to give Lance the satisfaction of knowing that he was scared to  _ hold hands _ , of all things. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone would see them. The entire neighborhood (with the exception of Hunk’s family) was still preoccupied with watching the twisted criminal-sentencing ceremony anyway. 

“Cool.” Lance smiled, reaching over to take Keith’s hand. Unsurprisingly, it took him quite a few seconds to locate it, but Keith didn’t pull away when he did and Lance gingerly slipped his hand into Keith’s, interlocking their fingers. “Lead the way, Keith.”

Responsibility. That’s all it was. Or at least, that’s what Keith tried to tell himself. Yet, there was no denying that he liked the warmth he felt when he held the boy’s hand on that chilly October evening. No denying that he liked  _ Lance _ . As his brain struggled to process this new and exciting information, Keith felt his heart flutter in his chest. This was the first time he’d genuinely enjoyed the company of someone other than his brother, the first time he’d openly accepted someone as a friend. Maybe, he thought, spending time with Lance and Hunk wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“House number?” Keith questioned suddenly, remembering the responsibility he’d briefly abandoned in favor of self-indulgent, friendship-centric thoughts. 

“Fifty four,” Lance replied, using the minor interaction as an excuse to spark a whole new conversation—just as Keith had hoped he would. “It’s probably still a good distance away, so let’s chat,” Lance transitioned smoothly. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I do want to learn at least a little more about you.” He flashed Keith an incredibly teasing and uniquely-Lance grin. “Is favorite color too much to ask?”

“Not at all,” Keith shook his head with a laugh. “My favorite color’s red.”

“Red, huh?” Lance considered it. “Yeah, I can see that. Favorite animal?”

“Lions.”

“Ooh, me too! Favorite food?”

“I guess I like sushi.”

“Nice! Any hobbies?”

“I, uh, collect knives.”

“Knives?” Lance repeated, taken aback. “You really  _ are _ a psychopath!”

It wasn’t the first time Keith had heard those words (over the years, a countless number of people had scolded him for his hobby) but when Lance spoke, there was no disapproval. Every word was laced with a light and playful teasing, and it was beyond evident that Lance had meant no harm. Keith appreciated that rare open-mindedness to no extent, but nevertheless felt the need to elucidate—just in case.

“I don’t hurt people,” he mumbled a brief clarification. “I rarely even touch them. All my knives are on display.”

“Really?” Lance’s tone was filled with authentic intrigue, and emboldened by this, Keith continued.

“Yeah, I have a couple glass cases full of them at my brother’s house. My favorite is the one my he bought for me when he visited Japan. Its blade is encrusted in jewels.”

“That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard!” Lance exclaimed. “I’d love to see-” Immediately he broke off, turning away to hide an embarrassed blush. How had he managed to forget that he was blind? Amending his sentiment, he continued, “I’d love to visit your brother’s house sometime and _hear_ more about your collection.”

“I’d like that,” Keith told him, trying to ignore the hammering guilt that had accompanied Lance’s self-correction. “I’ve never had a friend over before, so I think-”

All of a sudden, Keith abandoned his sentence, incapable of forming enough of a coherent thought to complete it. His eyes had flickered over to Lance while he’d been speaking, and he was shocked to see the energetic boy grinning ear to ear, positively beside himself with happiness. Radiating it, even! Why, after the painful reminder of his blindness, was Lance still so sunny? Thankfully, Keith didn’t have to wait too long for an answer. 

“You called me your  _ friend _ …” Lance breathed, awestruck, speaking the words as though they were sacred.

Keith didn’t quite know how to react to that sentiment, but he was positive that the warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest wasn’t going to let him utter anything intelligible anyway, so he simply fell silent, allowing the meaningful words time to sink in. Lance, too, quieted down after his wonder-filled remark, and the duo soon lapsed into a comfortable silence. It didn’t last for an extensive period of time, but when it came to the ever-exuberant Lance McClain, that was to be expected. The topic he had chosen to pursue, on the other hand, was entirely  _ un _ expected.

“So, uh, I know we’ve kinda ended our little Q&A, but I have one last question for you,” Lance spoke up timidly as they rounded a corner. “Are you… homophobic?”

“Of course not!” Keith’s answer was instantaneous, indignant, and implicitly insulted. “Homophobia is as dead as racism, anyway.”

It was true. Nowadays, the only traces of either prejudice would be found would be in a history textbook. 

“I’m so sorry, Keith.” Lance turned away, ashamed. “You sounded upset when you learned that Hunk and I live together, so I was worried that you were one of the five people on the planet who still think it’s wrong to be anything but heterosexual. I should never have assumed-”

Suddenly, Lance’s nervous rambling was interrupted by a bout of genuine, full-blown laughter. Miraculously enough, it seemed that Keith found the entire situation rather comical, holding no resentment towards the ditzy Cuban. 

“No, no, not at all!” he laughed. “I’m gay, actually.” 

_ Good, _ Lance smiled.  _ Criminal or no, Keith still has his morality. _

In a way, it proved that Keith was still human.

As their laughter died down, Lance smoothly transitioned to a new, more lighthearted topic, and conversation began flowing more easily. Time seemed to fly as they chatted and kidded with one another, and before they knew it they’d arrived at Lance’s doorstep.

“Here it is,” Keith announced, standing back to behold the captivating building in all its glory. Amused, he added, “Why am I not surprised that its paint job looks like abstract art?”

Lance shook his head with a laugh, ignoring the question. “Welcome home, Keith.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) This chapter is mainly set-up to establish the main characters and my unfamiliar dystopian/utopian society, but the story will definitely pick up soon, so expect lots of fluff!  
> 2) Updates will be slow, but chapters will be fairly long. Apologies in advance if you (like me) lack patience.  
> 3) Regardless of what Season 8 brings, I fully intend to finish this story. It may take me a while to write everything, but I promise to eventually complete it and post the fluffy ending we all deserve!


End file.
